


Water and Light

by GenericUsername01



Series: Star Trek Fairytales [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/F, fairytale retelling, the light princess - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 05:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13357710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericUsername01/pseuds/GenericUsername01
Summary: Ilia was cursed as a baby to have no gravity. Then she meets the woman who keeps her grounded.





	Water and Light

**Author's Note:**

> The Light Princess is a fairytale written by George MacDonald and I do not own the plotline or general structure of this story.
> 
> Warnings for child abuse and some very mild homophobia.

On Delta IV, it is tradition to throw an elaborate party in honor of each baby born. Near everyone in the whole town is invited—to know the family and not be invited is unheard of. 

Unfortunately, her father forgot to invite his extremely estranged sister, who was a naturally forgettable person by all counts, especially when their current relationship was nonexistent. She also happened to be a powerful witch. 

She showed up at the baby party anyway and was greeted and admitted instantly, the father having forgotten that he had forgotten her. When she got to hold the baby, she ran her fingers across her forehead, leaving a trail of wetness and something else behind. She gripped the baby hard and spun three times in place, chanting 

 

“Light of spirit, by my charms, 

Light of body, every part, 

Never weary human arms— 

Only crush thy parents’ heart!” 

 

She handed the baby back to its mother, a pleased smile on her face. The mother looked at her like she had gone completely mad, and maybe she had. 

At first she thought her arms must be going numb with paralysis, because she could not feel the weight of her baby within them. Testing, she flexed her muscles and held her baby even closer. She could feel her. She just couldn’t sense her weight.  

She gave her sister-in-law one last strange look and put the incident out of her mind. 

* * *

 

She tripped. She tripped and dropped the baby. 

Ilia went floating up into the air gently, giggling the whole way, like a happy cloud of laughter and baby. 

Her mother gasped. 

“Koh!” she called. Her husband came running. “The baby! Look at the baby!” 

The air resistance had halted Ilia about a foot below the ceiling, and there she floated, happy and content as can be. 

“Get—get the stepstool!” he said.  

It wasn’t enough. They had to use the kitchen tongs to catch her by the hem of her gown. 

* * *

 

They watched her carefully after that. But they could not watch her every second. 

Koh had put her down to sleep one day in the master bedroom, on the center of their bed. It was a hot day out, so she required no blankets and a window was open. Not realizing the baby was in the room, G’Le walked in and opened a second window to cool the house down. 

A breeze blew in and snatched Ilia up like a dandelion tuft, whisking her away. 

She blew out the window and across the yard, tumbling and turning like a leaf in the wind, laughing with glee the entire way. But it was a light breeze, not terribly strong, and it soon set her down nestled beneath a bush. Leaves rained down on her, and she wriggled her hands up to catch them. 

Between the warmth and the shade and the lack of anything better to do, she soon fell back asleep. 

She was found a few hours later with the frantic shouting of her parents. She woke with a jolt, shaking the leaves off her and laughing as they fluttered around her.  

G’Le scooped her up and held her close, determined to never let go again. 

* * *

 

Ilia was the happiest baby the town had ever seen. The neighborhood children loved to watch her, and more specifically, to play ball with her—Ilia being the ball. They could only do it indoors however, for fear of tossing her too far upwards and being unable to get her back down. Ilia absolutely loved it, a squealing bundle of joy the entire time. 

She was always happy, and she always made everyone around her happy. 

Except for her parents. 

G’Le burst out crying over her breakfast one day, and Koh rushed to comfort her. 

“What is it, my wife?” he asked gently. 

“It’s Ilia!” 

“What about her? She is fine. Listen, you can hear her laughing even now.” 

G’Le just shook her head, and Koh sighed, understanding. 

“It is a good thing to be light-hearted, I am sure, whether she is that way naturally or not.” 

“But a bad thing to be light-headed.” 

“Can you bear this?” he asked. 

“No, I can’t,” she said.” 

“Well, what’s to be done?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she said. “But might you not try an apology?” 

“To my old sister, you mean?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I don’t mind.” 

So the next morning he went to his sister’s house, begging and pleading for her to undo the spell. 

She said she knew nothing about it. 

She was smirking. 

Her parents were dismayed. 

“We will wait ‘til the child is older. She may then be able to suggest something herself. She will at least know how she feels, and explain things to us,” G’Le said. 

“But what if she should marry?” Koh asked. 

“Well, what if?” she asked. “Just think if she were to have children! In a hundred years from now, the air may be full of floating children. That is no business of ours. Besides, by that time they will have learned to take care of themselves.” 

* * *

 They considered taking her to the physicians. They did for a while. After three years of experimentation and lab tests and blood work, they put a halt to all of that. This was not the life they wanted for her. 

* * *

 

Ilia was seventeen and she was always laughing. Her parents ran one last experiment. 

They told her Admiral Nogura was cut to pieces with all his crew, and she laughed. They told her Starfleet had been decimated, and she laughed. They told her the besieging forces were on their way to Delta IV and the planet had no hope left for it, and she laughed until she was doubled over, clutching her stomach.  

She could never be made to see the serious side of anything, and when her mother cried, screaming, asking her why everything always had to be so funny, she only smiled and laughed a little and asked why she was making such strange, funny faces. 

And when her father stormed at her, she laughed, and danced around and around him, crying and shrieking with joy. When he would try to catch her, she would glide away from him in an instant, not even slightly afraid, enjoying the game of not getting caught. With one push of her foot, she would go floating in the air above his head and dance backwards and forwards and sideways with the grace of a butterfly.  

It was such a fun game. It never failed to make her laugh. 

* * *

 

Ilia had a peculiar way of moving. She floated and danced about and flew, skirting through the air with ease, though it took a lot of trouble to direct herself in any particular way. She didn’t mind, content to go wherever the breeze took her. 

She had come up with a system for running. She would hold two stones in her hands to anchor her down. Her clothes had no weight once they were on her—even the heaviest of metal jewelry did nothing—but whatever she held in her hands retained its weight. 

This usually worked fairly well, but it wasn’t an infallible system, clearly; as one day she was running to greet her father with a kiss on the cheek and strong wind blew her into the arms of a Vulcan visitor, who she ended up kissing instead.  

Ilia was not a shy person and she didn’t have a shameful bone in her body. She simply laughed, while the Vulcan woman blushed furiously, and Koh looked positively thunderous. 

* * *

 

They had a family meeting. Ilia slid and flitted and glided from one piece of furniture to another before finally settling in an armchair. 

“Ilia,” Koh said. “You must be aware by this time that you are not exactly like other people.” 

She tittered. “I have a nose, and two eyes, and all the rest, just like you and Mama.” 

“Ilia, please dear, be serious for once,” G’Le said. 

“I’d rather not, actually.” 

“Would you not like to be able to walk like other people?” her father asked. 

“No! You only crawl, you are such slow creatures.” 

“How do you feel, my child?” he asked. 

“Perfectly fine, thanks.” 

“I mean, what do you feel like?” 

“Like nothing at all.” 

“You must feel like something.” 

“I feel like a girl with a funny papa and a brilliant mama,” she smiled. 

“Ilia—“ 

“Oh!” she added. “And sometimes I feel like I’m the only person with any sense in the whole world.” 

She had been trying to be serious, she really had, honest, but now she burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Koh rubbed his face. 

“Is there nothing you wish for?” he asked. 

“Oh yes!” 

“Really? What is it?” 

“I have been longing for it for so long! Since last night.” 

“Tell me what it is, my darling.” 

“Will you promise to let me have it?” 

G’Le cut in. “Tell us what it is first.” 

“No, promise first!” 

“No. What is it?’ 

“Okay, but I’m going to hold you to your promise. It is: to be tied to the end of a string—a very long string—and flown like a kite. It would be so fun! I would rain rosewater, and hail sugar plums, and snow whipped cream—and—and—and—“ 

She doubled over in another fit of laughter and had to excuse herself. 

“G’Le,” her husband said solemnly. “What are we going to do?”  

“There’s only one thing left we haven’t tried,” she said. “Let us consult the metaphysicists.” 

* * *

 

Two scholars from the School of the Ancients came for a consultation. It mostly consisted of each of them elaborating on their own favored theories for the hundredth, thousandth time and insisting they were right on a number of topics. 

They didn’t  _completely_  forget what they were there for. But it was a near thing. 

“I stand by my stance,” one of them said. “There is not a fault in the girl, body or soul; only they are wrong put together. At that decisive moment, when souls seek their appointed habitations, two eager souls met, struck, rebounded, lost their way, and arrived each at the wrong place. The soul of the girl was one of those, and she went far astray. She does not belong by rights to this realm at all, but to some other plane. Her proclivity to her true sphere destroys all the natural influence which this world would otherwise possess over her corporeal frame. She cares for nothing here. There is no relation between her and this world. 

“She must therefore be taught, by the sternest compulsion, to take an interest in Delta IV as her homeworld. She must study every aspect of it—its zoology, its botany, its chemistry, its history, its philosophy, its scientific advancements, its literature, its music, its art, and above all, its metaphysical history. She must—“ 

“Okay, it’s my turn now,” the other interrupted. “All of that was wrong. Your daughter’s problem is purely physical. Hear my opinion. From some cause or another—of no importance to our inquiry—the motion of her heart has been reversed. It draws in where it should force out, and forces out where it should draw in. The offices of the auricles and ventricles are subverted. The blood is sent forth by the veins, and returned by the arteries. Consequently it is running the wrong way through all her corporeal organism—lungs and all. Is it then at all mysterious, seeing that such is the case, that on the other particular of gravitation as well, she should differ from normal Deltan physiology? 

“Phlebotomize her to the last point of safety, in a warm bath, preferably. When she begins to asphyxiate, apply a ligature to the left ankle as tight as the bone can bear. Apply, at the same moment, another of equal tension around the right wrist. Place the other foot and hand under the receivers of two air pumps. Exhaust the receivers. Have a pint of Saurian brandy and wait for the results.” 

“Which should arrive in the form of grim death,” the other said. 

“If that should happen, then so be it. She would have died being given her best possible chance at a normal life and beneficial medical treatment.” 

Her parents showed them out shortly.  

Frankly, both theories sounded absolutely ridiculous, but at least the first proposed cure was harmless enough, so they tried that. Ilia was given the very best education available, on all manner of subjects relating to Delta IV. 

* * *

 

Their town was on the shores of what had to be the loveliest lake in all of Delta IV. Ilia loved that lake. She loved it more than her mother and father, secretly, and for one reason. 

She could sink. In the water, she could sink. She had gravity again, however briefly. She was normal. 

They said that her laugh was missing something. True joy. It had a metallic, brittle, hysterical quality that didn’t seem quite right. And for all her laughter, Ilia very rarely smiled, and that too seemed off. 

She loved the lake. 

It was water that had taken her gravity away, and it was water that gave it back. 

She discovered this new sanctuary on a summer holiday party on her parents’ boat. There was a veritable fleet of boats on the water, as everyone with a lakeside house had had the same idea. Lots of the guests were stuffy Starfleet officers, her father’s friends, and she asked to go aboard Will Decker’s boat to spend time with him. Koh was in a particularly good mood, and agreed to throw her across the short distance. 

He tripped and momentum sent them both plunging downward, him onto the deck and her into the water. 

She disappeared beneath the waves with a burst of delighted laughter and did not bob back up. 

The guests screamed. Half of them were in the water in an instant, set on rescuing the most beloved girl in town. They all had to keep surfacing for air, unable to find her, when they heard the sound of tinkling laughter midway across the lake, Ilia swimming like a fish amongst the waves. 

She refused to come out for anything or anyone. She had never been this happy in her life. 

She was… calm. She had regained gravity and gravitas. 

She felt normal. She felt relieved. She felt alive. 

Her life’s passion became the water. She always, always, always wanted to get into it, at every event and in every moment. Every time she emerged, she was better behaved and more beautiful than before, like the water itself was a healing balm that could cure her ailment. 

She swam in the summer. She swam in the winter. She would not be deterred by something as trivial as the cold, when the lake hadn’t even frozen over—the climate was too warm for that. 

She was as much a fixture of the lake as the water itself. Anyone from town looking over would always find her there, floating gently, so unlike her usual floating, or skipping through the waves like a Terran dolphin or a mermaid, as natural in the water as the fish were. 

She would have been in the lake at night too, if she had her own way. She considered sneaking out. Her room had a balcony that hung over a deep, reedy section—it was just a short plunge and no one would even know. 

It was just a short plunge. 

Unless a wind came and blew her away, and she couldn’t plunge far enough and ended up stuck, suspended in the air just shy of that delicious water all night. 

She hated the air. She hated it with a burning passion. She could only seem to find that hate, to be anchored to it, while she was in the water. 

Her parents kept her on a leash in the air, so that she wouldn’t blow away. Multiple leashes, actually, in case one snapped or was dropped or something, tied to various different places on her person. 

Ilia did not have a sense of embarrassment or humiliation or any heavy emotions like that. Except when she was in the water. Except when she was free. 

The metaphysicists heard how much good the water was doing and suggested that she be buried alive for three years, with the reasoning that being within the earth should do her even more good. But her parents objected, strangely. 

So they came up with a different idea. If water from an external source could be so beneficial, then that of her own creation must be even moreso. They hypothesized that if Ilia could somehow ever be made to cry, it would be a permanent cure. 

Her parents posted a reward. A very, very generous reward. 

A homeless man with the most pitiable story came in. Ilia’s parents helped dress him up and do his makeup to costume him as even more downtrodden. He sat down and talked with Ilia for hours, telling her a story of a life of unbelievable hardship and sorrow. 

She tried to remain dignified, she really did, but it was just too much and she burst out into shrieking, screeching laughter. 

Her father flew into a rage one day.  

She didn’t cry no matter how hard she was beat, no matter how long he kept it up. She laughed and laughed and he hit her harder, more, again, enraged further with every peal. Something about her face was twisted, and her laughter sounded an awful lot like screaming, but it was still laughter and she still didn’t cry. 

* * *

 

Saavik was trudging through the muddy forest, heading in vague of the light, where she figured (hoped) there would be a town of some sort, or at least a settlement.  

She heard someone screaming. 

She started running, sprinting past the edge of the treeline towards the sound and nearly running straight into a lake. There. In the center. A woman was splashing and shrieking with all the force in her lungs. Saavik shrugged off her jacket and shoes and dove in. 

She reached the woman within seconds and tugged her back to the shore with all her might, though she seemed to go into hysterics when they neared the edge, and she kept trying to speak and swallowing more water, which was highly illogical. Saavik shushed her. 

She pulled her onto the shore, dripping, and sat down next to her. 

Then Ilia floated upwards. 

“You—you villain!” she spat. She grasped furiously at pine cone, then at a tree branch, then finally got a firm grip and used it to lower herself. 

Saavik had heard of this girl, the bewitched child of the Deltan village, who was the talk of all the surrounding towns. She hadn’t expected to meet her, but apparently she had, and had already offended her somehow. She was the daughter of a Starfleet admiral, and just about the whole ‘Fleet knew her story. 

Interestingly, that admiral was exactly who Saavik was here to see. 

Ilia swung from her grip on the tree branch to grasp Saavik’s shoulder and anchor herself in an upright position. 

She had never been angry before. 

“I’ll tell papa,” she said. 

“What? No, please do not.” 

“Yes I will,” she said. “What business did you having pulling me out of the water and throwing me to the bottom of the air? I never did you any harm.” 

“You must excuse me. I did not mean any offense. You were screaming, I thought you were drowning.” 

“I was  _laughing,”_ she said. Her fingers dug into Saavik’s skin. “Put me up directly.” 

“Put you up where?” 

“In the  _water!”_  

Saavik nodded agreeably. 

She wrapped both arms around Ilia more securely, who loosened her grip on Saavik from puncturing to simply firm. She led them carefully back to the sound of lapping water, making sure not to handle Ilia too roughly. They had gone quite a ways from the shore in Ilia’s scramble for purchase along the trees, and emerged at an entirely different point, over a cliff about twenty-five feet high. 

“How am I to put you in?” Saavik asked. 

“That is your business,” Ilia snapped. “You took me out, you put me back in again.” 

“Very well,” she said. She pulled Ilia close and let them both fall. Ilia had time for just one delighted peal of laughter before the water encapsulated them. 

She surfaced, breathless, unable to even laugh, feeling rushed. 

Saavik suppressed a small grin. “How do you like falling in?” 

“You call that  _falling in?”_  

“Yes. I should think it a very tolerable specimen.” 

“It felt like going up.” 

“My feeling was certainly one of elevation as well.” 

Ilia furrowed her brow, She blushed slightly and decided to turn the tables on her, asking, “How do  _you_  like falling in?” 

“It is most pleasurable,” Saavik said softly, and for a moment they were talking about more than just falling in in the physical sense. 

“Well,” Ilia cleared her throat. “It is the most delightful fun I ever had in my life. I never fell before. I wish I could learn. To think I am the only person in the whole system who can’t fall!” 

She almost looked sad, but that was, of course, impossible. 

“I shall be most honored to fall in with you any time you like,” Saavik said with devotion. 

“Thank you. My father might not approve. But I don’t care. In any case, as we’re already in together, would you care for a swim?” 

“It is agreeable.” 

They swam. They swam until it was dusk and the double suns were setting and the sky was watercolor purple, the trees dark and encased in shadows. They would have swam longer, perhaps, but a moonless night fell and they both had places to return to. 

“I must go home now,” Ilia said quietly. They hovered in the water within a foot of each other, swaying gently. 

“I need to check into an inn,” Saavik said. 

“Have you no home here?” 

“No.” 

“Oh,” she said. “I wish I didn’t either.” 

Saavik’s heart panged in her side for her. It had been a long time since Hellguard, since Charvanek. She still had the brand mark on the back of her neck, and it itched at the reminder. She tugged her turtleneck up. 

“Do you require assistance?” she asked. 

Ilia’s eyes lit up. “You see where that green light is burning? That’s the window to my room. I’m gonna play a trick on all of them. Now if you would just swim there with me very quietly, and when we are all but under the balcony, give me a push up, and I should be able to grab hold of the balcony and get in at the window, and then they will look for me ‘til tomorrow morning!” 

Saavik had seen the lights and heard the calls coming from the shore. Ilia was already missed and being searched for. She really shouldn’t do anything to get on the admiral’s bad side, but on the other hand, Ilia was looking at her with such hope and the most beautiful eyes Saavik had ever seen and— 

“Alright,” she found herself saying. “Will you be in the lake tomorrow night?” 

“Oh, definitely. I mean, probably not. But maybe.” 

She decided not to press further, and merely gave her the required push, with one last trailing whisper of “Tell no one.” 

* * *

 

Saavik went the next day to Admiral Koh’s residence and rapped lightly on the door. G’Le opened it to her and greeted her with a lined smile. 

“Hello dear. You must be Lieutenant Saavik. Please, come in.” 

Saavik murmured her thanks and entered the home. It was a large cottage, grand by the standards of the town, and on one wall hung the flags of the Federation and Delta IV. The place was warm and cozy-feeling, with many candles lit around it. 

The admiral was out shortly, and G’Le served them all native tea that smelled of herbs and was steaming hot. 

“Thank you for accepting this position so early, Miss Saavik. Not many are willing to serve with a mostly Deltan crew. The ship should be ready to launch within three months, and I trust you’ll make a fine First Officer,” Koh said. 

“I appreciate your esteem,” she said. “And please, it’s ‘mister.’” 

“What?” 

“It’s Mr. Saavik. Not Miss,” she said. 

Koh’s mouth twisted slightly. “But you’re a woman.” He looked her up and down. “Aren’t you?” 

“Indeed. However, strictly defined gender roles are the height of illogic, and I shall do as I please.” 

“I see,” he said. “Well, I hope that won’t cause any problems on the ship.” 

“I hope so as well.” She sipped her tea. “If I might ask, where is your daughter?” 

“In her room. She has been confined as punishment for sneaking out last night,” G’Le said. 

“Ah,” she said. “When her punishment is over, I would be most obliged to make her acquaintance.” 

“I’m sure you would,” Koh said. 

* * *

 Saavik sat on the shore just below Ilia’s balcony, singing softly, a made-up tune. 

 

“Lady fair, 

Swan white, 

Lift thine eyes, 

Banish night 

By the might 

Of thine eyes. 

 

“Stream behind her 

O’er the lake, 

Following, following  

For her sake. 

 

“Cling about her, 

Waters blue, 

Part not from her, 

But renew 

Cold and true 

Kisses ‘round her. 

 

“Lap me ‘round, 

Waters sad, 

That have left her. 

Make me glad, 

For ye had 

Kissed her ere ye left her.” 

 

By the time she finished, Ilia was in the water beside her, resting her chin on folded hands and listening peacefully. 

“Would you like a fall?” Saavik asked. 

“Yes! If you please…” She frowned. “I don’t know your name.” 

“It is Saavik,” she said. “I presume you are Ilia?” 

“Yes, how did you know?” 

“I am to be the First Officer of the crew your father is putting together.” 

“Oh,” she said. “So you’ll be leaving soon.” 

“Not for a few months.”  

Ilia smiled brightly. 

* * *

 

They met in the lake every night after that, taking a blissful, euphoric plunge into the dark cool waters, feeling the thrill snake through their hearts as they fell. 

Saavik often felt like she was floating on air rather than water while she was there. She expressed this to Ilia once, who gave a sharp, brittle laugh. 

It still didn’t sound like laughter to Saavik. It still sounded like a scream to her. 

When the moon came, it brought new games with it. One of their great delights was to dive deep in the water and then turn around to look up at its shimmering reflection above them. Ilia would take her by the hand and make Saavik gasp out bubbles and then the both of them would shoot through that glowing pool until their heads were above water and they could see the real thing. 

Saavik soon found out that while she was in the water, Ilia was much like other people, no longer the empty-headed princess that some in town mockingly called her. She was brilliant, and funny, and dazzling in every way, and being around her made Saavik breathless, entranced, like she was the one who was bewitched. 

Sometimes her laugh even sounded genuine, and it was the most beautiful sound Saavik had ever heard. 

But then she would leave the lake and she was a completely different person. She wasn’t herself. She wasn’t  _Ilia._  

She wasn’t the woman that Saavik had fallen in love with. 

She had a crazy thought that they could live forever in this lake as mermaids and just never leave, wrapped in eternal bliss and cool water.  

She dismissed it out of hand. 

* * *

 

Ilia could barely stand to be out of the lake for even an hour. She knew it like the back of her hand. Even better, actually. 

So when she dove in one night and it was shallower than usual, she noticed instantly. 

She immediately shot through the water to the high side of the lake to inspect the rocks and confirm her suspicions. It was too dark to really tell. 

“Ilia? Ilia! What is the matter?” Saavik called, rushing after her. But Ilia didn’t answer, barely aware that Saavik was even there anymore. She swam home without a word. 

The next day she set out to make careful observations. The banks were dry. The water wasn’t lapping at them as high as it should. The grass and plants there were withering. 

She made marks all along the shore, to be reexamined each day, and confirmed her worst fears. She hadn’t even know she had worst fears. 

The lake was drying up. 

The tops of rocks she had never seen before became visible, became dry in the sun. She thought of the mud at the bottom, caking, taking all the lake’s little creatures with it. She thought of how hot the summer sun would be, without the water to cool her. 

She pined. She wasted away. She couldn’t bear to swim in it any more, knowing it would soon be gone, and she lost the fragile peace of mind the water had given her. She lost herself. 

The townspeople said she wouldn’t live an hour once the lake was gone.  

But she never cried. 

* * *

 

The wise men were studying the lake, trying to figure out why it was draining, trying to save it. But all their efforts were in vain. 

You can’t test for magic. 

Ilia’s aunt had finally caught wind of how her niece had more joy in the water than any other person had out of it, and she raged. 

She took spiteful pleasure in thinking of the town’s dwindling water supply, in thinking of the townspeople all dying of thirst, of their brains boiling and frizzing in their skulls as she exacted her revenge. 

Nobody would ever forget her after this. She would go down in history. 

She summoned one of the White Snakes of Darkness and brought it down into a cavern only she knew about beneath the bottom of the lake. She marched around the edges of the cave in ever-tightening circles, holding the snake aloft on her shoulders, it bobbing its head around as if searching for something in the ceiling. 

They reached the center of the cavern and the snake shot forward, mouth latching onto the ceiling. 

“That’s right, my beauty! Drain it dry!” the witch crowed. 

She stayed watching the progress for seven days and seven nights, until the serpent dropped from the ceiling as if suddenly exhausted, and shriveled back up into the piece of dry seaweed she had used to summon it. She placed it in her pocket proudly. 

A single drop of water hovered where the snake had been. 

The witch ran back through the complicated maze of tunnels that led to the outside world, cursing and muttering the entire way, her black cat at her heels. The route was mostly upward, but it was very long and very winding, with numerous side tunnels and branches. It was easy to get lost in, but she knew her way. 

Finally, she exited through the mouth of a cave in the center of the woods.  

She took a moment to relish the distant sound of rushing water. 

* * *

 

Saavik hadn’t seen Ilia since the night she rushed out of the lake. She had spotted her a couple of times out in the lake, but not recently and never at night. She had sat and sung and looked in vain for her nereid, while she—like a true nereid—was wasting away with her lake, sinking as it sank, withering as it dried. 

Then she heard that the lake was dying and it all clicked into place. 

Saavik was not a superstitious person. But she has the thought that a more superstitious person might believe the lake was dying because its lady had forsaken it. 

In reality, she knew it was more likely the opposite—that Ilia did not come to the lake because it was dying and she could not bear to see it go. 

Ilia stayed in her with her curtains drawn to block out the morbid view. But she couldn’t shut the sight out of her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking of it. It haunted her imagination. She felt as if the lake was her soul, drying up within her, first to mud, then to madness and death.  

She was driven to distraction by it. Nothing else mattered except for her lake, not Saavik, not her mother, not her father, not even herself. Because honestly, who was she without that lake? Not Ilia, that’s for sure. 

Some other horrid, empty being that she didn’t recognize. 

The lake went on sinking. Small slimy spots began to appear, which took on a shine from the water. These grew to broad patches of mud, which widened and spread, with rocks here and there, and floundering fishes and crawling eels swarming. The people went everywhere catching these, looking for small treasures dropped from the rich folks’ boats. 

Soon the lake was all but gone, only a few of the deepest pools remaining. 

A group of boys found it one day, in the bottom of the deepest of those pools, which was no more than a puddle by then. 

A gold plate. They brought it to the admiral. Inscribed on it on one side were the words: 

 

“Death alone from death can save. 

Love is death, and so is brave— 

Love can fill the deepest grave. 

Love loves on beneath the wave.” 

 

The other side had an explanation. 

“If the lake should disappear, you must find the hole through which the water ran. But it would be useless to try to stop it by any ordinary means. There is but one effectual mode: The body of a living person could alone staunch the flow. The person must give themself of their own will, and the lake must take their life as it is filled. Otherwise the offering would be to no avail. If the town cannot provide one hero, it is time it should perish.” 

* * *

 

Everyone heard about it within an afternoon. 

No one came forward. 

Koh was getting desperate. Ilia was lying prone on her bed and refusing to take any nourishment but lake water, which was no longer the healthiest thing. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to see someone die— he was just hopeless as to finding someone willing to sacrifice themselves. 

Saavik didn’t hear about it until hours after everyone else did, being the outsider that she was. 

She took a journey into the forest to think. 

The plants of Delta IV were a beautiful mix of pinks and purples and spiraling triangle-shaped leaves. The trees themselves had a deep black bark, very rough to the touch. 

It was beautiful. 

It was a thoroughly distracting place and entirely unfit for meditation, but it was better than being in town. 

Saavik sat herself down on a flat rock in the lotus position, closing her eyes. 

The lake was the town’s sole water source. They were completely reliant on it. 

The planetary government will not let them die of thirst. Aid would be sent in. The people would evacuate and be relocated as ecological refugees. They would survive. The only damage done would be the loss of an ecosystem and one life: Ilia’s. 

Ilia. Her ashayam, her world, her everything. 

The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. The loss of the lake would be detrimental to this community. Someone needed to provide the sacrifice. If no one else, then the duty fell to her. 

It was logical. 

It was very logical. 

She meditated on how the lake would look in the moonlight, on how Ilia would look gliding through it. On the shape of the water over her body. On the warmth of her smile when she was genuinely happy. On how widely expressive she was in the water, every emotion flitting across her face clear as day. 

Saavik should be repulsed by that. She wasn’t. She was entranced. 

She would do what she had to do in order to save her. And she would give Ilia back her beloved lake.  

And herself. 

* * *

 

“My darling, we have found a person willing to stop up the lake,” Koh told her. 

She gasped and sat up, even weak as she was. 

She was dressed within minutes, throwing on her finest headwrap and as much jewelry as she could find. She dashed out of the house and ran to the edge of the lake, stones in hand. 

Standing in the center was Saavik. 

Ilia dropped to her knees. 

“No,” she breathed.  

She moved slowly, steadily, to the center of the lake. She stood in the shallow pool and wrapped her arms around Saavik’s neck. 

“Nobody told me it was you,” she said softly. 

“Nobody else volunteered. I estimate they all expected someone else to. That is illogical.” 

“Logic. Right,” Ilia gave her weak, slightly-off smile. “You and your logic.” 

She ducked her head into the crook of Saavik’s neck. Water began rising up to her knees. “Sing for me,” she murmured. 

“What?” 

“Sing for me.”  

Saavik obeyed. 

 

“As a world that has no well, 

Darting bright in forest dell; 

As a world without the gleam 

Of the downward-going stream; 

As a world without the glance 

Of the ocean’s fair expanse; 

As a world where never rain 

Glittered on the sunny plain— 

Such, my heart, thy world would be, 

If no love did flow in thee. 

 

“As a world without the sound 

Of the rivulets underground; 

Or the bubbling of the spring 

Out of darkness wandering; 

Or the mighty rush and flowing 

Of the river’s downward going; 

Or the music-showers that drop 

On the outspread beech’s top; 

Or the ocean’s mighty voice, 

When her lifted waves rejoice— 

Such, my soul, thy world would be, 

If no love did sing in thee. 

 

“Lady, keep thy world’s delight; 

Keep the waters in thy sight. 

Love hath made me strong to go, 

For thy sake, to realms below, 

Where the water’s shine and hum 

Through the darkness never come; 

Let, I pray, one thought of me 

Spring, a little well, in thee; 

Lest thy loveless soul be found 

Like a dry and thirsty ground.” 

 

Ilia began kissing her neck midway through, enjoying the way her throat caught and her breath shuddered on certain notes, when Ilia kissed her a certain way. 

“Sing again, my love. It makes it less horrible.” 

A long pause followed. “I admit my controls are less perfect than usual.” 

Ilia kissed her. “This is very kind of you, my love.” 

“Well, you are worth dying for, after all.” 

Again a wavelet, and another, and another flowed over the stone. The water was up to Saavik’s hips. Two, three, four hours passed in this way, her standing in the hole at the center of the lake and Ilia standing with her. 

Ilia had to leave briefly and bring out a little raft for her to sit on, or rather, to be tied onto. She brought them wine and biscuits, feeding Saavik herself, who could not move for fear the water would leave. She kissed Ilia’s fingers as they were brought to her lips. 

The water grew and grew and rose up on Saavik, floating Ilia higher. The moon rose higher in tandem, lighting up the sky, lighting up the now-filling lake. 

The water was up to her neck by now. 

“Will you kiss me, Ilia?” Her voice was shaking. 

“Yes. Of course,” she answered, and leaned down to kiss her, long and sweet and slow. 

Ilia gave her more wine, and the water rose to her chin, to her lips, to between her lips, which she clamped shut, buying herself a few more minutes. 

Ilia felt strange. 

The water reached Saavik’s upper lip, and she took one last breath through her nostrils. Ilia looked wild. It covered her nostrils. Ilia’s eyes looked scared, and shone strange in the moonlight. 

Saavik’s head fell back, her last breath bubbling up through the water. Ilia made some sort of choked sound and jumped into the water. 

She swam under and tugged at first one leg, then another, but she couldn’t move either. She had to surface to take a breath, and had the hysterical thought that she wished she could give that breath to Saavik. 

She was frantic. She dove right back under, tugging at her beloved’s legs until one and then the other were free. She pulled Saavik onto the raft with her with strength she didn’t know she had.  

Saavik wasn’t breathing and Ilia was breathing enough for the both of them, so she gave her some of her breath, tilting her chin up and pinching her nose, starting compressions on her chest. Saavik puked up water, went into a fit of coughing, and then promptly passed back out. Ilia rowed like her life depended on it. 

Ilia lifted the sopping body from the raft and carried her up the beach to the house. One of the many spectators laid a hand on her arm. 

“But the lake!” they said. 

“Go drown yourself in it,” she snapped.  

She carried Saavik all the way up to her room and laid her on the bed, quickly lighting a fire and covering her in a king’s ransom worth of blankets. 

She called the town wise woman and they tried everything under the suns. 

It was hours and hours and hours. It was hope and terror and dread and the waning high of adrenaline. They all but gave up as dawn broke. 

Then Saavik opened her eyes. 

Ilia fell on her and wept. 

She cried. She cried with all the tears she had saved up over her lifetime. She cried for hours, and while she did, the most torrential downpour Delta IV had ever seen was happening outside, water coming down in sheets, in buckets. If it weren’t for the outlet at the bottom, the lake would have overflowed and flooded the town. As it was, it was full to bursting. 

Saavik held her tight, letting her listen to her heartbeat, until Ilia was spent. She tried to rise, and found that she could not. She tried again, this time with great effort, and was able to push herself off of her beloved. 

“Your gravity,” Saavik said.

Ilia blinked. “My gravity. I’ve found my gravity!” She took the woman’s head in her hands. “Saavik, I love you. I’d do anything for you. You have brought light and darkness to my life, and I cannot live without both. Please. Say you’ll marry me.” 

She brought her fingers to her lips and gave them a kiss. “I will.” 

* * *

Ilia needed intensive physical therapy after that. She had to learn how to support her own neck and how to walk, as if she was a baby again. It was humiliating.

She had never felt that before and she loved it, she loved every second of it. A whole new world of emotions had just been opened up to her, and she was determined to try them all.

The lake stayed full and worn the roof of the cavern below thin until it caved in and the lake simply doubled in depth. The collapsed caused a minor earthquake, which wasn't so bad for the people who lived in town, but it destroyed the witch's house with her in it.

Their wedding was on a grand boat out on the lake, with the whole town invited. At the end, Saavik dipped Ilia for kiss, letting her fall in her arms and knowing her bride would be there to catch her.

"So this is gravity," she said when the kiss ended.

"Indeed it is," Saavik replied through the faint hint of a smile.


End file.
